


neighbors

by civillove



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 02:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20400451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: 5 times Beth compares her ex to her neighbor (and 1 time she doesn’t)--“Was nice meetin’ you though, right next door if you need to borrow a cup of sugar.”She smiles and watches him slip away into his own apartment, the door closing behind him. Beth holds the wine to her chest as she closes her own door, taking it into her kitchen as her thumb runs over the label with a thoughtful hum.She’s liking this new apartment already—brand new start indeed.





	neighbors

**Author's Note:**

> This is AU in every sense of the term in which nothing in the Good Girls series applies except Rio has Marcus. That’s it. Aka Rio is not a criminal, Beth isn’t married and blissfully has zero kids. I just wanted to use Beth and Rio out of their usual plot confines. 
> 
> This is for Lauren because she continues to be my #1 sweet potato.

Beth sometimes feels like she’s at a weird impasse with herself with the concept of ‘starting fresh’. It’s a good idea but it also feels like giving up all at the same time. The latter is why it takes her so long to move, to get a new apartment and a cat and to figure out what her life means being single.

When her sister and best friend help her move her final box into her apartment, she realizes she needs to be comfortable with that: with herself, no guys, no relationships, no complications. If she’s not happy with who she is while she’s single, how is she supposed to be happy _with _someone? And maybe most of that is Dean’s fault—he was possessive in the worst way, never listened to her or made her feel appreciated, wanted, attractive; but she also knows it’s her fault for allowing him to get away with it for so long.

At least she didn’t do something stupid like marry him, she got out of it before it was too late. Before their lives were too complicated with living together or children. No, Dean luckily made it easy—he cheated on her, Beth found out, she called it quits and left; at least she still had some self-respect to do that.

Yeah, perhaps it was dramatic to move to the other side of the city and get a brand-new apartment but she had the means to do so and wanted a place closer to where she worked with decent rent. She’s tired ‘waiting for the right time’ to do something because that time never seems to come—that’s just something people say when they’re too scared to go after what they want.

And she’s done being that person.

So she moves in, settles in her apartment, has a house-warming party and starts fresh.

She’s on her fourth glass of wine with the girls when there’s a knock at her door, a sudden flush of ice working her way down her spine as she stares at the door a moment, worried that it’s Dean. She really wouldn’t be surprised if he creeped on her forwarding address and tried to show up to get back together.

All her work friends mixing with her personal friends are in her apartment already, so she’s not expecting anyone else as she wanders to her door and opens it.

Beth doesn’t know who it is but she _enjoys _looking at him already.

He’s a head taller than her, skin a golden brown, so many decent characteristics that she doesn’t know quite where to look first. He’s wearing clothes that hug his form, skinny but muscular, a bird tattoo on his throat with a ridiculous wingspan she wants to touch. She wants to say something about how he shouldn’t approach anyone who’s tipsy but bites her tongue, hard, so that doesn’t slip from her lips. Her eyes drink his in, soft brown, curious, scruff decorating his jawline and she follows the strong lines of his face, down his neck and shoulders to his arms.

“Hey neighbor.” He smiles a little, the phrase barely registering because she’s still too busy taking him in as a whole.

Beth follows his arms to his strong wrists and his hands…his one hand is holding a bottle of wine while the other wraps a hand around a smaller one, a boy that can’t be much older than six attached around his leg. He’s shy, hiding his face behind his thigh but she can see bright wide eyes that are the same and shaggy dark hair.

She’s not saying anything and she’s _aware _she’s not saying anything, the words somehow stuck in her throat as she leans against the doorframe. This doesn’t deter her neighbor, however, who just smirks and hands her the bottle.

“Welcome to the complex. I’m Rio and this is my son, Marcus.”

“Hi.” She smiles, finally forcing the pleasantries out from under her tongue. “It’s really nice to meet you both, I’m Beth.”

Rio’s hand falls to Marcus’s hair, brushing his fingers through his locks. “What do we say?”

She looks down as Marcus smiles, still very shy, but at least there’s a toothy grin accompanying his soft, “Hi Ms. Beth.”

Beth wants to invite them in but it’s really not a place for kids with all the drinking going on. Rio seems to sense her wavering on the invitation because he shakes his head, motioning to the left with a soft head nod.

“Thanks but it’s late, I gotta be puttin’ him to bed.” Rio leans down and picks Marcus up, holding him against his chest. He glances inside at the house-warming, a soft smile tugging at the ends of his mouth. “Was nice meetin’ you though, right next door if you need to borrow a cup of sugar.”

She smiles and watches him slip away into his own apartment, the door closing behind him. Beth holds the wine to her chest as she closes her own door, taking it into her kitchen as her thumb runs over the label with a thoughtful hum.

She’s liking this new apartment already—brand new start indeed.

\--

  1. **Helping**

It all stops feeling like some sort of out-of-body experience after about a month of living in her new apartment. Moving to somewhere new always feels so weird to her starting out—even though it’s all her stuff; her lumpy blue couch and coffee cup collection in the cabinets, her yellow comforter and family of plants on her windowsill, it feels like she’s living in a stranger’s space for a while. It takes time for it to settle between her bones, to live in her veins, for her place to feel like _home. _The complex is just as much hers as it is anyone else who lives there and she’s even gotten to know a lot of other people that live around her. 

She joins a gardening club that meets every Sunday morning to scout out a new destination in the city to plant something green, a local café around the corner from the complex has regulars that live in her building and the people on her floor are always having open dinners or small get-togethers that she tries to attend when she’s not working. Beth really enjoys the old woman who’s across the hall from her; they exchange baking recipes and talk about cats while the gay couple near the steps has margarita Tuesdays and the woman right next to her hosts yoga on the roof.

The only person she never really sees is Rio. He doesn’t seem to participate in many events even though she always thinks she’ll run into him at a small get together or at the café around the corner. She wants to knock on his door and tease about a cup of sugar but…every time she goes to do that, her fist literally hovering over the metallic 24B on his door, she chickens out.

She can literally hear Annie in her head telling her to go for it and pictures her waggling her eyebrows and it just makes Beth turn down the hall and quickly leave before he catches her standing outside.

Beth rolls her eyes at herself and contemplates her failures as she grocery shops because it’s not like she needs an excuse to talk to him—he’s her neighbor, she could knock on his door and talk about literally _anything _going on in the complex. She’s overthinking and overanalyzing their brief interaction at the threshold of her house-party and somehow using that as a reason not to talk to him.

He’s easily handsome and that’s dangerous because the last thing Beth needs is another man in her life when she should be focusing on herself.

_You don’t need to marry him for Christ’s sake _her inner voice supplies as the elevator door dings open on her floor, Beth balancing too many bags of groceries in her arms as she wanders out and down the hall. _Just go get coffee with him. _

She shakes her head and pauses outside of her apartment door because oh, she’s never going to be able to get the door open and hold everything at the same time. She lets out a short breath that flutters her bangs on her forehead,

“Brilliant.” She mutters to herself, wondering if she can move her wrist the right way to dig her keys out of her pocket.

The same time she’s doing this, the universe punches her in the stomach by Rio’s door opening right beside her. He steps out of his apartment, locking the door and raising an eyebrow at her grocery heap.

“Plannin’ on bunkering yourself in?”

She narrows her eyes at him over the bags, “No, I just can’t pass up a good sale.”

He snorts out a soft sound and sticks his hands in his pockets; damn, he’s just as good looking as she remembers. He’s wearing all black today from what she can tell, lean muscles and sharp lines, a beanie on his head barely covering his hears and a black jean jacket that probably won’t keep the wind out very well.

Rio peaks into one of the bags she’s holding. “Ah, three things of Oreos…it all makes sense now.”

She shrugs her one shoulder and nearly squeaks as the bags shift. “You try to ignore when your favorite cookie has a coupon.”

He scrunches his nose but leans against his apartment door, clearly waiting for her to try and figure out how to get into her own. “Nah, cookies aren’t my thing.”

“Is it because you’re too sweet already?” She teases but there’s a sassiness to her tone that pulls at the edges of his mouth.

“Cute, I’m definitely not helpin’ you now.”

Beth turns her nose up, determined, “Who said I need your help? You don’t think I can carry in groceries on my own?”

Rio smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes, “I _think _you’re gonna drop everything before you get your keys out.”

He’s probably right but that doesn’t mean she’s not going to try and do this thing anyways. She leans the groceries against her door, trying to maneuver them in just the right way so she can slip her arm down a fraction, her fingers brushing the top of her pocket but…it’s not going to budge. Damnit. She can feel Rio’s eyes frustratingly on her, watching her like he’s got nothing else better to do as she struggles to make this work out of spite alone.

It’s not going to; however, she knows this is a losing battle—especially since when she moves the wrong way and can feel the landslide of groceries right before it occurs. She squeaks and somehow squeezes her eyes shut but nothing hits the ground…probably because Rio steps in and scoops them back up into her arms.

He opens his mouth but she gives him a look that makes him snap his jaw shut. “Not a word.” She watches him zip his lips closed before she looks to the ceiling and sighs; she’s slightly pinned against her front door and Rio is pressed up against her side.

Could be worse.

She turns her head, her nose inches from his and she can feel him exhaling gently against her skin. He’s close enough that she can smell his cologne, mixed with skin and laundry detergent. It’s almost so intoxicating that she doesn’t mind standing for a few more moments while trying to get into her apartment.

Beth bites down on her lower lip, almost hating that this is about to come out of her mouth, “Front left pocket.”

Rio raises an eyebrow but says nothing, his hand slipping down between the groceries and her door to press into her jeans. She nearly jerks at the sensation of his hand in the fabric, grabbing hold of her keys, licking his lips and holding in a phrase that she _knows _wants to come out of his mouth.

He says nothing, thank God, even as he gently moves her aside and unlocks her apartment door for her. He grabs a few bags off the top of the heap, following her into the kitchen and setting them down onto the counter. Beth lets out a relaxed sigh, finally, and rubs the raw marks in her wrists from the bag handles.

“Damn, ma,” Rio tuts as he watches her but quickly averts his eyes to how she’s set up her apartment, “I didn’t take you for bein’ so stubborn.”

She takes a moment for herself, biting on the end of her tongue as she considers his statement. It’s not that she’s stubborn it’s just…she’s not used to anyone offering her help like that. Not that Annie or Ruby wouldn’t have stepped in if they were there but she supposes she’s used to doing things on her own, things that matter, anyway. Her relationship with Dean was _always _about how she was going to accomplish something solo.

She got used to not asking for help.

“What, you want an award?” Beth deadpans, turning to grab the Oreos out of her bag.

Rio smiles then, turning a little until he’s leaning against her kitchen counter. “Yeah, maybe I do.” He puts her keys down next to the grocery bags and motions to the cookies, “I’ll settle for a few of those.”

Beth scrunches her nose, “I thought you didn’t eat them.”

“No, I said they weren’t my thing. They’re good with peanut butter.” She must make another face because he straightens his back and puts his hands up like he’s about to start a debate with her, “Hold up, please tell me you’re not a dunker.”

A laugh slips out of her lips, “You mean cookies in milk? No.”

“Good, I was gonna say—cookies are one thing but _soggy _cookies are another and I can’t live next to someone who does that kinda shit.”

“I don’t have any peanut butter.”

Rio shakes his head, stealing a few cookies when she opens up the wrapping. “You were just _at _the grocery store.”

She rolls her eyes and takes the Oreo apart, licking the icing. “Sorry, must have forgot your list seeing as how I never run into you even though we live right next to one another.”

He pauses a moment, crunching on a cookie before he swallows. “Are you tryna say you missed me?”

Beth feels her cheeks heat up despite not wanting them too and shakes her head even though it’s too late, he sees it, eyes traveling over the color with a satisfied smirk. “I’m trying to say you’re not very social.”

“Well I guess I’m gonna have to start if you’re there.” He holds her gaze for a long moment, the heat of his eyes seeming to burrow underneath her skin and start a fire. Beth barely manages to concentrate, clearing her throat as she licks her lips and pops another cookie into her mouth.

Rio smiles and grabs one more for himself, looking over his shoulder as he walks towards the hallway.

“Thanks for the cookies, Elizabeth. See you at the next mixer.” And closes her front door behind him.

  1. **Listening**

She sees Rio at the next mixer. And at the next one. At drinks at the café after that and a roof get-together after that. One time he had Marcus with him but the other times he didn’t and she wonders if he has joint custody with his…wife? Ex-wife? She assumes he isn’t married because he doesn’t wear a ring but she also doesn’t want to pry with asking. They flirt with one another and it always feels like more compared to how Rio interacts with other people. It’s not just the alcohol or the good times, there seems to be something between them in how they get along.

Not that she’s really trying to notice, because, that’s not what she’s interested in right now…she just got out of a relationship, the last thing she needs is another one. But is it something she thinks about?

Sometimes…when it’s late and she’s lonely and sliding in-between cold sheets with a mug of tea that her fingers are wrapped around. When the space next to her feels too empty even with her cat curled up like a croissant. She thinks about Rio’s gaze and how warm his hands are and if he has any other tattoos that aren’t the bird on his throat or the blocks on the back of his arms.

When she gets caught contemplating this three nights in a row, she knows she needs a project that has nothing to do with work.

Which is how she decides she’s going to repaint her kitchen and it would have been a great idea except Rio sees her carrying paint from the elevator and when he offers to help, she can’t turn him down.

Whatever, it’s fine, help doesn’t suck and it’s not like she’s trying to avoid him—she just has to push herself into the mindset of him being her neighbor, her friend even…nothing more or less.

Beth pulls her hair into a loose bun as Rio fixes a corner of plastic sheeting over her counter and tips a can of paint so he can read the shade, “Pomegranate, really?”

She shrugs and sets up their painting trays, “No judgement, just acceptance please.”

He snorts, moving to another can and squints a moment, “Okay, but Nutmeg?”

“Do you not sense my vision?” She asks, licking her lips.

Beth takes a moment to appreciate the blue jeans he has on today paired with a white t-shirt that he clearly doesn’t care about getting paint on. There are already a few streaks of fading blue to the fabric and she bites down on asking if he’s painted his apartment too or if it’s from fooling around with his kid.

“You shouldn’t paint a room after any shades of red, it’s bound to give you anxiety.” He opens up the lid to Pomegranate anyways and pours it into a tray she has ready.

“It’s just the one wall, I’m offsetting it with the Nutmeg.” She smacks his arm with a paintbrush. “It’s my kitchen, you don’t have to live here and look at it.”

Rio shakes his head. “There goes my idea of invitin’ myself to breakfast.”

A soft laugh slips from her lips as her cell phone rings in her pocket. She pulls it out and scrunches her nose, “It’s work, I gotta take this. Be right back.” Beth quickly disappears into the living room as she slides her thumb across the screen, picking up the call.

Most of the time, Beth really enjoys her job—it’s a small art gallery but with big vision. They never shy away from big displays or installations and fight to get emerging artists just like any larger gallery in Detroit.

That’s part of her job, to work with visiting artists and discuss their work, what will fit best for the gallery and how to best display their voice. It’s exciting because she gets to work with inspiring people and she’s the manager of the department but most of the time? The owner of the gallery is someone _very _particular with his own sense of what art should fill the gallery walls. They bash heads often and apparently today is going to be one of those days.

Beth scrunches her nose as he drills a list of demands into her ear; she’s learned to keep her mouth shut while he rants because sometimes, he just needs to vent and it’s over a lot faster if she just lets him. She sits down on her couch and pulls out her portfolio from her satchel next to the coffee table, opening up her planner to see the artist she’s contacted and the work she’s already done.

Work that apparently, needs to be started again—from scratch.

“But I’ve already met with him and he’s—”

She winces and pulls the phone away from her ear as he _wallops _out a response, not giving her a moment to say anything back. Beth lets out a slow breath,

“I understand that but—”

Again with the yelling before he hangs up. She tosses her phone onto the floor and then regrets it because the last thing she needs is to go fix a cracked screen. She runs a hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Okay, it’s fine, she can fix this—

“Look, I gotta at least know where you’re goin’ with this Pomegranate-Nutmeg vision before I start.”

Beth turns because _oh shit, right _and stands from the couch. “Sorry, I’m coming.”

Rio pauses at the back of the couch, eyeing some installation pieces over her shoulder. “What’s all that?”

“Art.” She supplies with a soft tease, sticking her hands in her pockets.

He gives her a look, “Thanks Picasso, I know that, I mean why’s it all spread out over your coffee table.”

Beth rubs the back of her neck, “Actually, Picasso wasn’t contemporary but uh…” She shakes her head, not wanting to get him caught up in all that. “It’s nothing, just work.”

“Oh right,” He pauses, setting his hand down on the back of her couch. “Gallery job.”

She smiles just a little because she recalls telling him what she did but she didn’t, for some reason, think he’d remember. They both were a little more than drunk on top of the roof, leaning against the far side of the apartment under the stars, discussing their jobs and what they’d _like _to do instead. Rio worked in construction but he said he’d rather be a chef, somewhere he could start his own little restaurant with recipes from his abuela—she remembers craving to be in his kitchen after he mentioned some things he enjoyed making.

And Beth talked about her gallery job, how she liked it for the most part but…that she wanted to be good at something else for a change even though she wasn’t sure what.

“My boss called and wants me to switch out an exhibit.” She stretches her arms up over her head, making a pleased sound when her back cracks. “Which is easier said than done. I have to decide between a series of neon light installations or a fog-filled one with paintings but, honestly, both have their ups and downs and…”

She trails off when she realizes she’s rambling, biting down hard on her lower lip. It takes a few moments of silence before Rio takes a step towards her, tilting his head so his gaze catches hers. He raises an eyebrow,

“And what?”

Beth licks her lips and realizes that he…he was actually _listening _to her. She tries not to let it surprise her but she’s pretty sure it’s clear on her face. When she’d talk about her job with Dean he wouldn’t even look at her; even more often he’d slip into his own thoughts and change the subject when she was done speaking.

She shakes her head, blush blooming at the back of her neck. “Nothing, you don’t have to hear about it.”

“You can, if you want to. I don’t know a lot about art but I know what I like lookin’ at.” His gaze follows down her form, a soft smile tugging its way onto his mouth. He then tilts his head in the direction of her kitchen. “Come on, you can talk it out while we paint.”

Beth is stuck for a moment, her mouth opening and closing because—_talking it out? _Sounds nice; she’s always so worried about bothering people with her work that she tries to figure it out on her own.

“I’m not divin’ into this Pomegranate mess without you.” He mumbles, tossing a paintbrush at her as she enters the kitchen.

She grins and starts detailing out her thought process as she dips her brush into the paint.

  1. **Calming**

Once her kitchen project is done, Beth finds herself digging into her work. Rio helps her pick out a new installation but that’s just the tip to the iceberg of what needs done—and in less amount of time then she’s used to dealing with.

She starts spending earlier mornings and later nights at the gallery, trying to get everything set up to what the artist and the gallery owner wants before the opening of the exhibit. She’s got about a week to put the final touches in and she hates how stressed and tired she’s getting over _one _exhibit. This is why she likes putting her work in months ahead of time…but it’s also how the owner of the gallery weasels his way into fucking everything up.

The sooner she is with her planning is somehow how much _later _he is with going over her portfolio details, letting her know at the last minute if he doesn’t approve something.

Honestly, the best moments of her work is when he takes a vacation and someone else takes over his job title for a few weeks—usually whoever it is trusts her as the exhibit manager and works with her easily on the decisions she makes for the gallery.

Beth knows she could go somewhere else, probably get a better paying job at another gallery but…it’s tricky. She runs the risk of getting blackballed; unfortunately the gallery and art business is run in very small, tight-knit circles. All it would take is one bad recommendation from her current boss and she wouldn’t be able to get another job doing something she actually enjoys.

She has to put up with the bullshit, despite how much of a double-edged sword it is.

So this is how she finds herself wandering into the apartment complex at eleven at night, a yawn slipping out between the hand that covers her mouth as she rushes to catch the elevator before it closes. She’s been working on taking the steps more but she’s pretty sure if she tries to walk up them tonight she’s going to end up sleeping in-between her floor and someone else’s.

Her arm slips between the closing doors, the elevator creaking back open to reveal Rio leaning into the corner. He offers her a soft smile as he sees her, Beth wandering into the space with a tired ‘hello’.

“Long time no see,” He stretches an arm across her shoulders and she finds herself leaning into the friendly touch, “Don’t take this the wrong way but you look beat, ma.”

“How could I take such a charming sentiment the wrong way?” She asks wryly but she’s smiling, sometimes can’t help it when she’s around him.

Rio smirks, squeezing her against his side. “Gallery business?”

“Always,” She bites down on her lower lip, somehow hyperaware of the warmth of his palm slipping through the fabric of her shirt and seeping into the pores of her skin.

They’ve been doing that a lot lately, touching one another when they’re in close proximity.

It’s nothing…overly sexual, but comfortable, as if it’s second nature with the development of their friendship. Rio’s gentle squeeze to her shoulder, sometimes he brushes his hand along her arm or tucks her hair behind her ear, hugs her around her waist, teases her by poking a ticklish spot near her ribs.

But it’s not just him; Beth finds herself brushing her thumb over the block tattoos over the backs of his arms or leaning her head on his shoulder when they watch movies, pressing herself into his side at parties or squeezing his hand briefly when she says goodbye to him.

Friends do that sort of thing though, right? She’s always been touchy with her friends, always expressing affection with Ruby like that…but maybe she never thought twice about it because she’s a woman.

But it shouldn’t be different because Rio’s a man, right?

“What?” She’s missed something he’s asked her.

Rio licks his lips. “I said you should take a day off, maybe paint another room in your apartment.”

He’s teasing her and she rolls her eyes, about to reply when the elevator stalls and _jerks _to a stop. It’s not much of a drop, but it’s enough to scare her, the arm that’s wound itself around Rio’s waist gathering the fabric of his shirt between her fingers. The lights flicker and she’s pretty sure he can hear her heartbeat because it’s _so loud _in her ears.

Rio takes a step forward and she _yanks _on him because, “What are you doing? Don’t move!” Her voice is pinched in several places

“It’s alright, this happens all the time.”

But when he moves the elevator jolts again and a sound she’ll never admit to making squeaks out of her mouth, “Rio, please stop—” Her fingers dig into his side even as he turns to face her.

“Hey,” He says gently, a bit of amusement wrapping around his syllables. “Honestly the fact that this hasn’t happened to you sooner is surprisin’. This shotty elevator fucking stoppin’ between the tenth and eleventh floor is practically a right of passage.”

“It’s not funny.” She snaps, her eyes squeezing shut as the elevator makes an ungodly screeching noise. How can he be so calm about this? The elevator is _stuck _and what stopping it from suddenly slipping free and falling?

Rio lets out a soft breath, quiet a moment as his arms wrap around her waist. His fingers press smoothing circles up the back of her spine, “Elizabeth, look at me.”

She doesn’t want to for a few reasons; for one with her eyes closed like this it’s easier for her to keep the panic at bay. She wants to tell him she’s afraid of heights but that’s probably blaringly obvious at the way she’s gripping onto him to ground herself, her breathing shaky and unsteady, her heartbeat pounding in her chest. Another reason is…she doesn’t want to _see _him pity her or worse find his gaze belittling or aggravated that he has to calm her down. Dean would somehow always make her feel worse when she was afraid of something, talking to her like a child, a _chore _to comfort her.

Beth feels his Rio’s finger slip underneath her chin, forcing it up and her eyes open—

And she’s met with nothing but a soft gaze, understanding even, calming like the hands on her back.

“It’s gonna be fine, alright?” He presses his body closer to hers, his chest brushing against her own—she greedily tries to soak up how relaxed he is, how steady breaths work their way in and out of his lungs.

She nods, swallowing thickly as her hand curls around his wrist, thumb pressing against his pulse point which is strong and stable.

“I meant what I said about the elevator, it’ll start movin’ in a few minutes.”

His hand moves to her hair, stroking through the locks near the shell of her ear. He continues the movements until, true to his words, the lights flicker back on and the car jerks into movement. The elevator starts climbing floors again and Beth swallows as her eyes find Rio’s lips, no matter of distance between them—

But the moment it stops on their floor, she nearly plows him over getting out, her knees knocking together as she walks to her apartment. She doesn’t even realize she still has Rio’s hand between hers until she goes to get her keys out.

“You’re gonna have to let me go at some point.” He smiles softly, leaning against the wall that’s between their apartment doors.

“Oh shit,” Beth’s voice is stronger now at least but God if she wasn’t exhausted before, she is now. “Sorry.”

She drops his hand and he rubs his fingers a moment, a soft blush kissing her cheeks because she hadn’t realized she’d been squeezing that hard.

“Least it didn’t happen when you were alone.” He says, looking for his own keys to unlock his door.

Beth runs a hand through her hair and a laugh that sounds too strained leaves her lips, “Probably would have died.”

“Nah, I think you’re much stronger than that. Everyone’s afraid of somethin’.”

She pushes her door open, pausing a moment as she turns to look at him. “Yeah? What are you afraid of?”

Rio considers her a moment and offers her an easy grin that’s far too attractive. “You not gettin’ enough sleep and runnin’ into you tomorrow morning.”

Beth scoffs and hits him with her satchel before going into her apartment and closing her door. She can hear him laugh before his door closes too and she hates that the sound of him alone pulls up the edges of her mouth.

  1. **Kissing**

She expects two things when she walks into Rio’s apartment: that he would have ordered pizza and Marcus to be on the couch with a dinosaur coloring book…but neither of those things are true as the door closes behind her.

“No Marcus tonight?” She asks, looking over her shoulder at him.

Rio shakes his head, in something comfortable: a pair of black joggers and an oversized blue sweater. Beth is her lounging clothes too, gray leggings and a long maroon t-shirt. She really enjoys nights like this, just hanging out in one another’s apartments, watching movies or eating too much food. What’s been nice is that Marcus has been joining them the past few times; whether it’s been in Rio’s apartment or hers, she was starting to get used to the idea of them as a trio.

There’s a shadow passing over her neighbor’s face and her eyebrows draw together because the moment she notices it, it’s gone. It’s so fast that she thinks she might have made it up. 

“Nah, not tonight.” There’s something off in the way he speaks. Something’s wrong but she’s not sure if she wants to press—he tends to close up like a clam when she does that and it amazes her how close you can feel to someone to only be so far away the next.

“Is…everything okay?” Beth tries to ask that at least, following him into his kitchen and he glances up at her and nods but doesn’t say anything.

She chews on her lower lip and her hand falls to the side of his neck, brushing over the wingspan of his bird tattoo. He turns his head into the touch, just slightly, before slipping out of her grasp to tend to noodles on the stove.

She leans her hands against the counter, watching the strong muscles of his back flex underneath his sweater, “I thought it was a pizza night too.”

“Oh so you don’t want homemade ravioli and vodka sauce?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at her.

Beth throws a balled-up napkin at his back, “I didn’t say that, I was just surprised is all.”

Rio lets out a soft sigh and turns after flipping the stove off. “I gotta practice my cookin’ skills every so often and we’re celebratin’ you getting that gallery shit over and done with.”

She smiles, leaning onto the counter with her elbows. “Just for a few months then I’ll have to plan _another _exhibit,” And then she scrunches her nose, “Wait a minute, is this dinner for you or me?”

He just grins in response and turns to start scooping ravioli out of the noodle pot, draining the pockets in his sink with a gentleness she’s always surprised he has. Everything smells delicious and she’s _definitely _going to overeat tonight, moving toward the wine wrack he keeps near his fridge to pick out a red.

She hums under her breath, turning a wine bottle to read a label before she glances at Rio at the stove again. She catches herself staring, watching him effortlessly add ingredients to the sauce bubbling away in front of him, something as easy as breathing when he tastes it off a wooden spoon and seems to know instinctively what to add. She loves baking but it’s not like this; this is something special and intimate and she can’t believe he’s wasting himself on construction jobs when he should be in a kitchen.

Beth takes her phone out of her side leggings pocket and bites down on her lower lip as she slides her camera app on and snaps a side profile of him. The shutter resounds in the small kitchen and Rio looks up in her direction, his eyes widening a little as he realizes what she’s done.

She shrugs innocently, “Instagram.”

“Nah,” He turns the fire off underneath the sauce and shakes his head. “You know how I feel about my picture bein’ taken.”

Beth purses her lips and pretends to think, “Uh, that you’re seriously attractive and it should happen more often?”

He smiles slowly as he takes a few steps towards her, Beth mirroring him by taking a few steps back, “Are you hittin’ on me as a distraction or because you mean it.”

She laughs softly, sidestepping the counter to keep space between them. “Why can’t it be both?” She pulls up the picture and shows it to him. “What’s up with your lower lip being in a constant state of pouting?”

Rio tries to reach for the phone but she pulls it away before he can get it, “I’m just givin’ the people what they want,” Beth _cackles _but mostly because she’s scooting around the counter again when he quickly tries to grab her, “Clearly you’ve got a fixation if you’re pointing it out.”

She shrugs, “I mean they’re not kissable or anything.”

“Said, you know, like a liar.” Rio nearly grabs her waist but Beth backs up out of the kitchen and into the living room, which he wasn’t prepared for.

“Let me post the pic!” Beth jumps onto his couch, pointing her phone down at him.

“Give me it.” He demands but he’s smiling, which just makes her feel even more mischievous, trying to maneuver her Instagram app open so she can post this thing before he gets his hands on her phone.

“Come on, how are we gonna get the word out about your awesome cooking skills? You need an Instagram shout out.”

The mistake she makes is looking down at her phone because the moment her eyes leave Rio is when he goes for her again. Beth squawks out a laugh and a shriek of protest all at the same time as his arm wraps around her and _pulls _until she’s falling into his chest onto the couch. She hits him with a soft _oof, _their heads nearly knocking together as Rio wraps his fingers around the wrist of the hand holding her phone.

“Give it up.”

“Nope.” She pops her ‘p’ and then realizes how closes their faces are.

His eyes brush over her own, seeming to come to same conclusion, that god forsaken lower lip brushing against her own. A breath skitters into her lungs and stays there, almost burning her from the inside out and it’s a gut reaction to lick her own lips but she does it anyways.

And that’s all it takes for Rio to close the distance and kiss her.

Beth goes still for a moment, her entire body set into overdrive before she succumbs to the sensation of how it feels to have his mouth against her own. The first thing she finds herself thinking about is how _different _it feels, Rio kissing her. And she hates that her mind goes here, that she allows herself to think about Dean where he shouldn’t belong but—

The way Rio touches her is so different, there’s nothing hesitant about it. Dean’s kisses were short, brief, too gentle as if he put no thought into it, as if he was bored and she’d shatter into a million pieces with too much pressure. She wondered for a long time if he kissed other women like that, if when he cheated on her he put everything he was missing into those kisses.

Rio isn’t gentle; his touch is firm when he cups the side of her face, drawing her closer, his lips determined and hungry as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He’s not afraid to break her, he’s not afraid to be passionate and it sings in her veins as that sensation thrums throughout her entire body.

Beth leans into it, kisses him until they have to pull back to breathe, photograph momentarily forgotten. They lay there for a moment, foreheads brushing, Rio curling her hair around her ear to get it out of her face and out of their way. She lets her phone fall from her hand, not even caring that she hears it tumble onto the floor and hit the leg of Rio’s coffee table.

She clears her throat and knows she should probably move, can feel her body slide until it’s pressed perfectly against his, straddling his waist even though it’s haphazard on the couch. “What about dinner?”

Rio’s thumb travels along her jawline, forceful as he tips her chin down, “What about it?” He asks and draws her closer to kiss again.

  1. **Lying**

It’s not like she was expecting any of this, in fact, when she first moved into this apartment complex, she vowed to work on herself—that she didn’t need to be in a relationship with anyone for a while until she felt comfortable with herself. But that doesn’t stop things from moving too fast and it certainly doesn’t stop her from overthinking her relationship with her neighbor.

Ever since that night in Rio’s apartment, they continue on as usual—friends, neighbors, and something more teetering on the edges. Their touches last longer, feel more prominent, their gazes loaded and they kiss goodbye instead of hugging. They don’t really talk about it even though Beth knows that they should, even if it’s to find common ground or to rub it in Rio’s face that she managed to post that picture of him on Instagram that he wanted to delete off her phone.

It’s got an impressive two hundred likes.

Okay, so, she’s not asking for a detailed plan of the next five years but having a conversation should be doable.

She’s on her way out of the complex, late for work already (even though she totally intends on stopping by the café for caffeine) and spies him getting his mail. He’s with Marcus who’s hanging on his pants leg, nearly pulling them down but they seem stuck in place—at least for now, _too bad. _He sees her before Rio does, a big bright grin nearly covering the entirety of his face as he lets go of his father to run and hug her around her waist.

“Hi Ms. Beth.”

She laughs gently, threading her fingers through his hair. “Hey Marcus, you get taller?”

He nods and looks up at her as Rio turns and makes his way over, a soft smile tugging the edges of his mouth, “Always.”

Beth drums her fingers on her satchel, a slow breath leaving her lips as silence settles between the three of them. Shit, she’s gotta get this out— “I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight? Dinner.”

“You cookin’? Cause I think I’ll pass.” Rio teases but his heart isn’t completely in it, he’s not even looking at her, eyes on the mail in his hands.

“Ordering in Thai, my specialty. I’m really good with take-out menus.” She smiles, curling her hair around her here. “I’m done with work early; eight?”

Rio looks up at her, the muscles in his jaw working as he considers her statement and chews on another thought. “I can’t tonight, I gotta work.” He reaches down for Marcus’s hand and they begin to walk out of the complex together.

“Oh,” Beth pauses and turns towards the café but it’s clear Rio is about to cross the street, separating their paths. “I didn’t know you did construction at night.”

He shrugs, “When the job calls for it, I gotta be there. Raincheck, yeah?” He says over his shoulder but doesn’t wait for her reply, Marcus waving to her as they quickly cross the street against the light.

Beth watches them go until Rio disappears into the crowd, her eyebrows drawing together as she makes her way to the café. She tries not to overthink this, they’ve said ‘no’ to one another before…it’s not a big deal.

And yet there’s this weight in her stomach that feels like a cinder block, telling her she’s wrong.

\--

Beth runs a hand over her face as she finishes the last flight of stairs up to her floor, not taking any chances unless she has to with that god forsaken elevator—especially when she’s alone. Besides, it’s probably good to get calisthenics in somewhere seeing as how she hasn’t had time for the gym and lets out a triumphant noise as she pushes the door open. The metal creaks and she curls her hair around her ear, glancing down the hall to…

To see Rio standing outside his apartment with another woman.

She swallows thickly, almost frozen and doesn’t quite know what to do. She could go back into the stairwell but he’d probably hear her open the door and she can’t just stand there because that’s awkward too. She has no other choice than to start walking down towards her apartment and hates how her feet feel like they’re in cement.

She thought he was supposed to be at work and all these other accusations of how he couldn’t order dinner with her start clogging up her throat, something hot and sickening curling in the pit of her stomach and snaking into her veins. She avoids his gaze even though she can feel it on her as she gets her keys out, a hushed conversation between him and the woman that appears as heated as it feels reverberating off her in waves.

Beth isn’t making out what they’re saying and part of her? doesn’t care what it’s about anyways because whatever it is, she can’t get past the fact that Rio obviously _lied _to her about having to work. She slides her key into her door just as the woman throws her hands up and says something like ‘whatever Rio’ and stalks down the hall to the stairway.

She’s just pushing her door open when she can feel his gaze on her again, his eyes practically peeling her skin back, “You could have pretended a little harder like you weren’t eavesdroppin’.”

Beth pauses, his statement like a slap of cold water on the back of her neck as she slowly turns to look at him. _Really? _He’s the one who’s upset? God this feels so typical, she should have realized that she’d only ever end up here with him—that men weren’t capable of telling small truths that could go a long way.

He’s a liar, just like Dean…and the ironic part is that she’s not even mad at him, not really, she’s angrier at _herself _that she got herself into this mess.

Again.

And maybe she’s being a tiny bit dramatic, maybe she’s holding him to a higher standard than she should be—it’s not like they’re dating, it’s not like they’re _anything _but…they did kiss, it felt like something different, something special. Perhaps that’s naïve, maybe that’s on _her _but she can’t take the dishonesty at any level.

She just can’t.

“Don’t you have work to get to?” She asks pointedly, moving into her apartment and pushes the door closed behind her as she walks away but Rio slips in-between before the lock latches.

“My shift got canceled,” Beth scoffs, putting her satchel down before toeing her shoes off by the couch. He’s quiet for a moment, eyes traveling over her body language. “That what your attitude is about?”

She turns to look at him, her mouth opening slightly because _“My _attitude? How am I supposed to feel when you lie right to my face?”

Beth can see the instantaneous frustration bloom on Rio’s face, his jaw working and his body going rigid as he fights to remain patient with her. And it’s kinda like a car crash, Beth having an out-of-body experience of this conversation—she wants to stop, rewind, tell him that she’s being ridiculous and that she’s sorry but she can’t stop the forward acceleration. She doesn’t know how, like it’s out of her control.

“I didn’t lie to you.” Something shifts on his face because he looks away from her as his hands fall to his hips, a soft breath passing in and out of his lungs before a shadow creeps over his face.

His attitude changes, a wall goes up taller than she can see over, thorn bushes at the bottom that are prickly and capable of drawing blood. And that’s the thing about their walls, how different they are. Rio’s are clear; dangerous barbs and KEEP OUT signs, harsh brick and lookout towers and sirens. Beth’s are hidden behind garden parties, ivy, cocktail menus and suburbia hypnosis that you wouldn’t really _see _the walls unless you were looking for them.

But they both have them and they’re both just as dangerous.

“I didn’t tell you because it was none of your business.”

Beth swallows, curling her hair around her ear as she stands in the space of her apartment—suddenly feeling how empty and open and lonely it feels. The silence has never been off between them as it is now, suddenly charged with electricity, painful as time beats by in achingly slow moments.

“I thought we were…” She trails off but he interrupts before she has a chance to finish.

“What? We kiss a few times and all of a sudden you’re entitled to how I spend my time?” His words are wrapped in barbwire, scraping against her skin, hollowing her out. “Baby, what'd you think this is; going steady?”

She swallows thickly, looking away from him because she can’t bear the condescending song-like quality to his voice. He’s looking at her in a way he never has before and something sick curls up in her stomach.

“—closer than that.” She says after a moment. Latent anger finally makes its way to the surface, pinching at her tone, “I thought I could trust you.”

And he has no idea how important that concept is to her, what it meant for her to be able to give it to him.

He scoffs and waves her off, turning to walk out of her apartment. “That’s your fault.” And slams her door closed after him.

+1 **Family**

Weeks pass by after that and because her and Rio are very obviously trying not to see one another, they don’t.

They don’t accidently pass one another getting their mail or reaching for the elevator in the morning on the way to work, hiking up the stairs after a long day. She doesn’t see him at the café ordering an espresso or even when she’s got an armful of groceries his door remains tightly closed, like he’s not even home.

And maybe he’s not? She hasn’t even seen a glimpse of him or Marcus to know if they’re even in the building or not. She wants to text him or call him, _something _to break the ice but…it’s not like he’s trying to reach out to her either.

They’re both stubborn—cool, that means they’re going to die like this, not talking to one another.

She’ll talk to him tomorrow and she tells herself that three times until the next day becomes yesterday and there’s always a version of tomorrow in which she’ll walk up to his door and knock and actually explain herself.

Apparently, what it takes is a thunderstorm knocking her power out because she searches all the drawers and closets of her place and she can’t find one flashlight. Not only that but all her candles are gone too except for little tea candles that’ll expire after an hour of lighting them—Annie is a candlenapper; she knows this, has been like that since they were kids. She _thought _her purse looked extra stuffed the last time she was over here but hadn’t bothered to make her open it up before she left.

She looks to the ceiling and sighs, shivering as thunder crackles in the distance, lightning blooming through her windows and briefly showing her shadows throughout her apartment.

Well, it’s either ask Rio if he has any candles or sit here in the dark. No thanks; she’s seen enough horror movies to know how _that _goes.

Beth pinches the bridge of her nose and slides a pair of slippers on and pulls a t-shirt over her sports bra before wandering into the hallway. She makes sure she has her keys before closing her door, an eerie light down near the elevator from the emergency lights flooding the cream blue carpet. Her hand hovers above the number of his door for a few minutes and she talks herself out of knocking twice before finally rapping her knuckles against the wood.

She waits a few moments, hears the sound of small feet running across the apartment floor before muffled voices.

And Rio opens the door.

He looks surprised to see her, guarded in a way that reminds her of when they first started talking. She clears her throat and nods her head at him before he raises his eyebrows at her expectedly.

Oh, right.

“I uh…was wondering if you had any spare candles. I’m all out.”

Rio lets out a long breath, like he’s debating on whether to let her in or not before Marcus appears by his leg. “Hi Ms. Beth! Did you come to see the fort?”

She smiles instantly upon seeing him, not realizing how much she’s missed him before now. “A fort?”

He nods excitedly, “Dad n’I built it in the living room. It’s so big! We used six chairs, you gotta come see.”

Beth swallows and wants nothing more than to be able to come in and see that, to spend time with them again like she used to but…she’s not sure her and Rio are at that place anymore. She’s not even sure if they’re friendly neighbors. She glances up at him and knows he’s working through the same conversation in his head before a soft sigh leaves his lips as he opens the door a little, his hand falling to Marcus’s hair.

“Let me get her some candles, pop. Then she can go look at the fort.”

Marcus nods and runs off to the living room, Beth stepping inside Rio’s apartment to follow him into the small dining room. He opens up a closet door and takes a look at a few shelves with a small flashlight, pulling down a candle that’s definitely pumpkin scented—which she’d probably tease him about if they were on better terms.

Their fingers brush as he goes to hand her the candle, “You want more than one?”

Beth chews on her lower lip before shaking her head, “No, one’s probably good. Really don’t want to end up burning down the whole apartment complex.”

Rio hums and he’s really struggling with something, she can tell with the expression on his face despite only having a little bit of light from his flashlight. He runs a hand over the lower half of his jaw before, “I’m sorry about—” It’s hard for him to get the words out, he must not apologize often. “in your apartment.”

Beth licks her lips, holding onto the candle tightly. She nods her head after a few moments when she realizes that’s all he’s going to say. Not quite the best apology she’s ever gotten but…it certainly means more than he realizes.

“I wasn’t very nice either,” She admits, “My ex was…” She sighs and looks to the ceiling, not wanting to talk about all of it but, she gestures with her hand as if that’ll give him an explanation.

Rio smiles a little, because maybe he _does _get it. “Mine too. That’s who was here when you showed up that day, she’s givin’ me trouble about our custody agreement.”

Beth frowns and takes a step forward, wants to touch him but bites down on the instinct to. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine now,” He assures her, glancing in where Marcus is, probably in the fort before turning his attention back on her. “But I took my frustration out on you because you were there.”

She clears her throat and shrugs her one shoulder, “You’re forgiven if you let me keep this candle. What are you doing with a pumpkin scented one, anyways?”

He smirks a little, tapping the top of it. “_You _left this over here the last time we had a movie night.”

Beth flushes, her cheek tinting pink but luckily it might be too dark to see. “Oh.” She grins. “Well then I’m definitely keeping it.”

Rio smirks and closes the closet door. A few moments of silence pass between them, nothing filling the space except for Marcus talking to himself under the fort, rain pattering the windows and thunder shaking the apartment complex.

“Well I guess I better get going.” She motions with a head tilt towards the front door, almost making her way there before Rio reaches out to gently grab her forearm.

She turns, her forehead pinching as she looks up at him. “Or you could stay; can really only see how good the fort is from the inside.” He insists, holding her gaze for a long moment before he closes the space between them.

Beth looks up, her eyes flickering over the wingspan of his bird tattoo, somehow so detailed even without a lot of light filling the apartment. His proximity is overwhelming, the heat of his body and the scent of his skin seeping into her pores.

“Stay.” He says to her; he’s not asking but _wanting. _

So she does.

She wanders over to the fort and Rio holds up a flap so she can crawl inside, a cityscape of chairs and books holding up the sheets. Marcus has got a flashlight up under his chin, creating an eerie sort of face that makes her laugh and Rio settles down next to her. It’s tight but cozy, lots of pillows and sleeping bags to make the space comfortable.

Marcus hands her an Oreo because of course there’s Oreos and she makes a face at Rio, who ‘doesn’t like cookies’ and he rolls his eyes before flipping another flashlight on. His son dives into a scary story that doesn’t quite make sense but at least he’s animated when he talks, so it’s actually pretty good and Beth finds herself leaning into Rio’s side as he tells it.

He picks up a blanket to set over her shoulders, his arm sliding around her waist and pulling her close, his lips brushing along her temple before pressing a kiss there. Beth finds herself closing her eyes, just because she can, absorbing what it feels like to be in this tiny space with them—their own little world away from the storm raging outside.

She doesn’t realize how much she missed it until she was here.

This little makeshift family? This is hers. And the thought of Dean and what she's left behind never once crosses her mind.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed :) thanks for reading!


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